Chapter 17 Myelas
MYELAS
It killed me that Izzy was about to fight for her life while I was stuck here in training with my cohort. My bond demanded that I protect Izzy, and I couldn’t. Not being with her was pure, unadulterated torture.
I’d tried to sound casual, make it an offhand comment, when I’d asked my cohort leader if we could skip today’s training and watch the dominion match.
She shut that down instantly, saying our place was here.
“But half the shifter barracks have gone!” I pleaded, failing miserably at trying not to sound desperate.
“And perhaps this cohort could have gone as well, if you’d been half decent at anything,” Essyma snapped. “But you’re not. You’re all crap, the worst of the worst, which means you have no right to leisure time until I say you do. So you’ll stay here and you’ll train. End of discussion.”
Though even as she said this, her expression changed, considering.
“How many of you want to see this match?” she asked, curious.
I raised my hand slowly. Everyone but Artol, the wolf shifter, did as well. Huh… I wasn’t the only one.
Essyma smiled. “Then I have the perfect solution. Saia and Svek, you two spar, whoever wins can watch the match.” She turned to me and Artol and I already knew what she’d say. “Myel, if you can defeat Artol, you can go as well.”
Yup.
I hated fighting the wolf shifter, mostly because he reveled in fighting me. He was stronger, faster, tougher and very perceptive. I rarely won against him and he thoroughly enjoyed ripping me to shreds whenever we faced off.
“Maybe, with the right motivation, this troop can actually get their act together and look like some semblance of a fighting force!” Essyma seemed proud of her decision.
I couldn’t fault her.
I’d certainly be fighting harder than I ever had. Though that wouldn’t guarantee victory, especially since my bond was being a dick and distracting as hell.
“Oh… and just for some added fun,” Essyma grinned her viper’s smile, “Myel, no shadows for you, fight in the sun. Let’s see you win by sheer strength and prowess, no tricks.”
And… I was fucked.
“Yes, leader,” I said as my stomach bottomed out.
Artol laughed, an evil thing. “This should be fun.”
The two of us walked to a sparring ring in the middle of the large training yard, in full sun.
“I hope you’re ready to see your own bowels,” Artol whispered as he shifted into his hybrid form.
Wolves were the most common shifters, and though not the strongest, still apex predators.
Long claws extended from large hands, his fangs grew as his snout elongated.
He got about a foot taller, heavy with muscle which twitched, ready to launch him into this fight.
My shift was far less dramatic. I grew a few inches, but bats weren’t large animals to begin with.
My muscles stretched, a little stronger in this form, but not by much.
My wings came out and my ears elongated.
Bats had talons, but on their feet only.
I could use them when flying, but my hands remained mostly human.
I had two slight advantages over Artol: my flight, and my hearing.
But seeing as how I’d have to get within range of his claws to hit him, flight didn’t do much for me, and despite that I could hear the pounding of his heart, my exceptional hearing didn’t help much either.
His hearing wasn’t as good, but it was still superhuman and he’d hear me coming.
I took to the skies as Essyma called for the fights to start.
“Come down here and face me like a man,” Artol taunted me.
“Why? I have wings, why shouldn’t I use them to my best advantage?”
Artol growled.
Without my ability to shadow-step or hide, there was no way I could surprise him, which was usually my best approach.
Still, I had to win this fight… somehow.
As I tried to figure out some strategy to win, Artol called out to me again. “Why you want to see the match anyway? Just two elf bitches fighting.”
My anger leaped to life at him calling Izzy such a name.
Artol must have seen me twitch and laughed. “What… you got a thing for one of them? Like to dream about sticking your dick in an elf slut?”
The bond responded viscerally to Artol’s words.
I swooped down. It was reckless, but even as my mind reeled at his insults, I managed to put together a vague plan of attack.
I was slightly faster than Artol, but the margin was so small it usually didn’t mean much.
Still… perhaps I could use that tiny advantage.
Artol crouched, then leaped up to meet me. If the wolf-shifter had a flaw, it was his aggressiveness, an over-eagerness to fight. He threw himself into battle a little too readily and this time, it would hurt him.
He’d not be as nimble in the air as on the ground. I flared my wings and swiveled, just above him. His claws missed me. I then raked my clawed feet over his shoulders from behind, scoring a rare hit on the wolf. He howled as he fell, spinning in the air to try to swipe at me, but missing.
Still, he hit the ground in a crouch and waited for my next move. It didn’t seem like he even registered his injuries.
Perhaps I could goad him into making another mistake.
“First strike to me,” I quipped, throwing all the arrogance and spite I could into the words. “You’re not so tough after all.” And while I said this, I let myself sink a little, lowering myself to a height where he could reach me if he leaped.
“Never seen you get so worked up about an elf before,” he snarled.
Damn that perceptive nature of his. “Come to think of it, I’ve smelled something new on you these last few days.
I thought you were fucking some shifter whore, but…
” He made a face of disbelief. “Noooo… you can’t be seeing this new elf in secret, can you?
” He might be joking, talking out of his ass.
He knew it was illegal. Still, I couldn’t tell if he was serious, and I didn’t like where this was going. He was far too close to the truth.
“You going to fight me or what?” I taunted.
He grinned and took the bait, launching himself at me.
I lifted myself, swiveling quickly as he got within range once more, but I should have known the same trick wouldn’t work on him twice.
His reflexes were lightning fast, and even as I tried to get behind him once more, he turned in the air.
One of my claws raked over one of his arms, a minor hit, but his other hand wrapped around my ankle.
Fuck.
He pulled me down with him as he fell and with a twist, smashed me to the earth.
He released my leg and pounced on top of me before I’d recovered enough to move.
His claws raked my chest, sinking deep, bouncing over my ribs as he tore through flesh.
His free hand secured my one arm, while he knelt on my torso pinning me.
Fuck!
He had me now.
But Artol’s other weakness was his arrogance. He snarled down at me, savoring his victory. He sniffed, then whispered, “Is that what elf pussy smells like? Maybe I should find this new elf and show her what a real man can do.”
He should have finished me off instead of talking.
I took advantage of his lapse in judgment, my free hand snapping up to wrap around his neck.
Perhaps he expected me to try to strangle him…
or push him away. He seemed surprised when I pulled him down, allowing me to bring him closer.
He went for my neck, but I was faster… biting into his throat.
Warm blood spilled over my tongue as I drank from him.
It wasn’t Izzy’s blood so it tasted like shit, but any blood would strengthen me.
And I’d caught Artol off guard. That gave me another second to act before he regained himself.
I brought a leg up and sank my talons into his side, using my currently heightened strength to push him off me and roll on top of him.
He lashed out, and nearly took my leg off, as I launched myself high into the air… bringing him with me. My clawed foot still grasped his torso, and though I wasn’t the strongest shifter I had more than enough strength to lift his bulky form.
Shock filled his eyes as he realized what I planned to do.
I pulled us higher, as fast as I could.
Artol attacked my leg. I used my other leg to fend him off, but still, my left ankle would be a mess after this. It didn’t matter, my bond insisted any sacrifice was worth it to get back to Izzy.
“You sure you want to do that?” I hissed through the pain as I drove us higher. “Tear my leg off and you fall.”
Artol stopped for an instant to see how far up we were, which was what I’d hoped he’d do. It gave me another second to pull us higher still.
“Go ahead,” I gasped, just because I could lift the heavy wolf-shifter, didn’t mean it was easy. “Rip my leg off and let’s see how well you land.”
My healing would restore a limb… eventually. For an ankle and a foot, it would take up to ten days and the whole process would be excruciating, but the bond didn’t care.
“Fuck you, you little shit! Put me down!”
I shrugged as I dragged us higher and higher. From this height. I could easily see the dominion pitch. Though I couldn’t make out people or what might be happening.
“Sure,” I said… and let him go.
His eyes went wide as he fell…
…and fell…
…and fell…
I dove, driving myself down with my wings. I was injured and nearly at my limit, the high I’d received from taking his blood almost gone, but I wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know how much damage the fall might do to Artol, so I vowed to be there to finish him off when he landed.
He hit the ground with his feet, sacrificing his legs to absorb the impact. Bones crunched.
Good. The asshole deserved as much.
I hit him hard, driving him to the ground, even as he tried to claw my already torn up legs. His head cracked against the earth and his eyes rolled back. He went limp, but I didn’t stop. I followed up with punches, driving my fists into his face and didn’t let up until Essyma called the fight.
“Spirits!” Essyma said to me, wide-eyed. “Now that’s the sort of thing I want to see from you every fucking day!”
“Getting my legs shredded so I can’t even walk?” I hissed in pain as I flopped to the ground beside Artol. “How’s that useful?”
“You won, didn’t you?” she said simply. “We’ll work on not getting torn up later, for now, it’s that level of spirit I want to see in you every time you fight.”
“Got it, boss,” I said, panting.
“You’ve earned the right to see that dominion match. I’ll even chip in for a healer to get you on your feet again, but only just. You need a reminder of how far you have to go.”
That was unusually kind of her. Shifters rarely got magical healing.
A healer was summoned, for myself and Artol, since I’d nearly killed the wolf.
Artol wouldn’t forget this. He’d be out for blood even more the next time we faced off.
Let him come. I had to survive, for Izzy. That bond-driven imperative had made the difference today. Perhaps I could use it every day.
And I had to hope he’d been talking trash during that fight. Between that damned nose of his, and my own reactions to his words, he’d guessed at something which was far too close to the truth. I had to hope he’d forget about it…
…because if he didn’t, and he told the wrong person…
…I’d be in deep shit.